Post by Emerald Oracle on Nov 27, 2008 4:23:55 GMT -8
“We’re going to Drakemyre.” Kayin said in a matter of fact manner as he stepped into the circle.
“Come on, let’s go.” Adaros echoed Karin’s words as both of them looked on in a rather paternal fashion at Emerald.
The three stood outside the walls of Soldrien. Eme3rald wasn’t too sure what Drakemere was, but she had just spent the last week walking to her current destination. She wasn’t terrible interested in another trip to a mystery destination.
“You go. I’ll wait here.” She said, stepping backwards, out of arms reach.
“Fine.” Adaros began his magics and it wasn’t long before the two had disappeared into the ether.
Emerald stood there for a few moments, looking off into the distance, amazed at the space she had just traveled. Her travel companions now inside the city walls and she outside, mostly alone she had time to think on her current location and situation.
Also to come to terms with the fact that she needed a hot bath.
She crinkled her nose, remembering why she hated this sort of travel. Heading inside the walls of Soldrien Emerald marveled once again at the contents of the city. Lochling paled in comparison for her, but she was on vacation – she could afford some awe.
But there was something about the place that bothered her – made her skin crawl. People looked at her differently here – like there was something wrong with her. Initially shrugging it off, she headed to the Iron Keg and asked for a room for the evening, and more importantly a hot bath drawn for her.
The inkeep looked at her twice and sideways up and down, and then she realized what it was – these people outlawed necromancy and she was wearing a necromantic sword.
Immediately her face went red as she realized why she stuck out. She thrust out almost double for the room and services she’d requested into the innkeeps hands.
“Keep the change” She said, looking down at her feet.
Money is the international language, and Emerald had spoken clearly enough to convince the man to give her what she needed without much question.
In short order she was upstairs in her room peeling off her traveling clothes and donning a linen bathrobe. She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands laying on the blade idly. She blade was dirty, bloodied and looked pretty gruesome. Emerald cringed – no wonder people had avoided her.
A familiar knock came to her door to alert her to the prepared bath and Emerald gathered up her rose oils and lotions and followed the girl to her bath.
“Thank you.” Emerald smiled to the woman, who would not meet her gaze, instead she just eyed the bloodied blade that Emerald carried with her.
“W…Will there be anything else mm.. miss?” The woman stuttered as she spoke.
“No, thank you. Please see that I am not disturbed.” Emerald flipped her a gold and the woman was gone instantly as if running for her life.
Emerald sighed to herself as she stared at the steaming bath. Putting a finger in she jumped back – WAY too hot. Dangit – now she’d have to wait. She put some of her lotions on a nearby chair and picked up the bottle of rose oil. Pulling off the cork she poured some of it into the water, watching the water change color and the scent change drastically. Breathing deeply she smiled to herself.
Snatching up a hand cloth, emerald dipped it into the water – still steaming as she pulled it out. She laid the Blade of Cuor on her lap and gently smoothed out the blade with the steaming hot water. She hoped its contents was sleeping.
The hot steaming washcloth smelled of roses as she began cleaning the blade. As she wiped away the grime, dried blood and dirt from the sword it gleamed back at her. She swore she could hear laughing. Grimacing at the internal arguments she was having, she continued to clean. Something about it was calming for her – habit and normalcy in a strange place far from her “home.”
Slowly she moved the cloth over her “companion” the thoughts in her mind twisting more and more. She just hadn’t been right in the head since her spirit faded this last time. But she stroked the blade repeatedly while arguing with herself in her mind – a conversation far too convoluted to both explaining.
Emerald wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting there cleaning her weapon, but now her hands were covered in blood. Looking down at her lap she realized the blade was perfectly clean and she had managed to cut herself in several places on her hands. She was bleeding more then blood – she was bleeding sanity.
“Be no more tired, be no more lame – I cure these light wounds – oh this I proclaim.” She spoke aloud and watched as her wounds healed.
The blade reeked of roses.
Emerald feeling particularly confused approached the tub, finding it had cooled down to a more manageable temperature. Settling into the water with the blade lay quietly on top of the tub Emerald was again plagued by her internal dialogue. Then it all stopped.
“Jean.”
Emerald swished around a bit in the water, sitting up for a moment – steam rising out of the tub with her and the scent of roses filling the room. Emerald had seen that look in his eyes. A look that could only be described as – familiar.
He had looked empty. Jean knew humility, he knew passion and understanding. She had seen it before but after his death… he seemed different. Perhaps colder. It hadn’t hit her until now, likely due to al the confusion about how to present oneself in front of royalty, but now she was thinking back to the look on his face – he was empty. She wondered for a bit if he hadn’t died but instead gone through what she had. No… these healers were surely more competent then Jaiden was.
Emerald sunk back down into the warm waters and blew bubbles in thought.
There was MUCH to think about, the crown wasn’t really her problem although Jean would argue with her about that. Instead she was more worried about being killed in a city where Necromancy was illegal and she had a walking talking and ass whopping undead that rode her like a cheap sleeper.
She splashed the blade in pathetic defiance.
Emerald sat and soaked in the bath for some time, the water had gotten cool and cloudy by the time she decided to get out. Wrapping herself in a towel she looked at the Blade of Cuor and said, “Now isn’t’ that better?”
The she silently scolded herself for speaking aloud to the blade – what if he had answered? How was she going to hide that?! Snatching up some extra linen she wrapped up the blade and grabbed her things, heading back to the room.
Talking to a crazy necromantic blade was PERFECTLY okay in Lochling – It wasn’t exactly the case in the Kings favorite Inn. Slipping quietly into her room, she put on a warm chemise and threw a towel on her horns and hair.
It was then she resolved to get back to Lochling and in a hurry.
Emerald was by NO means wealthy but she was a Bard, she was capable of making money in almost any city with her stories and harmonics talents. Ignoring the nonsense with her travel companions, and mostly keeping to herself Emerald got on the first caravan heading towards Lochling for the festivities being held by the High General. Festivals were huge opportunities for money, and the merchants of the surroundings were not going to miss that chance.
Emerald had begrudgingly been brought along on account of her being both a merchant and an “adventurer.” She had tried to explain to them that she couldn’t use the weapons she had with her, but the group wasn’t buying it – and Emerald needed a lift. She HATED thinking of herself as an adventurer. Adventurers died early and left broken families. She preferred to think of herself as a bard – no matter how bad her singing was.
The caravan trip was mostly uneventful, a few goblins here and there, but nothing the small group couldn’t handle. Em was just glad not to be chased by Black Star Assassins this time. The merchants in the caravan asked a lot of questions, but Emerald preferred not to answer them. She kept the Blade of Cuor wrapped up tight, packed with cottons, fleece, and leather. Her poor decisions had killed people before; she didn’t want more innocent lives on her hands. She kept to herself and when she spoke she told stories to entertain and then would quickly retire to bed, sleeping lightly with her bundle of hell.
It would be some time before the caravan got to the Southern Duchy. Emerald never thought she’d be so glad to see those borders. Those terrible, terrible borders.
Reaching Lochling itself Emerald left the caravan as soon as she could, thanking them politely and then leaving to head to her shop to check on the state of things. It had been at least a month...
“Come on, let’s go.” Adaros echoed Karin’s words as both of them looked on in a rather paternal fashion at Emerald.
The three stood outside the walls of Soldrien. Eme3rald wasn’t too sure what Drakemere was, but she had just spent the last week walking to her current destination. She wasn’t terrible interested in another trip to a mystery destination.
“You go. I’ll wait here.” She said, stepping backwards, out of arms reach.
“Fine.” Adaros began his magics and it wasn’t long before the two had disappeared into the ether.
Emerald stood there for a few moments, looking off into the distance, amazed at the space she had just traveled. Her travel companions now inside the city walls and she outside, mostly alone she had time to think on her current location and situation.
Also to come to terms with the fact that she needed a hot bath.
She crinkled her nose, remembering why she hated this sort of travel. Heading inside the walls of Soldrien Emerald marveled once again at the contents of the city. Lochling paled in comparison for her, but she was on vacation – she could afford some awe.
But there was something about the place that bothered her – made her skin crawl. People looked at her differently here – like there was something wrong with her. Initially shrugging it off, she headed to the Iron Keg and asked for a room for the evening, and more importantly a hot bath drawn for her.
The inkeep looked at her twice and sideways up and down, and then she realized what it was – these people outlawed necromancy and she was wearing a necromantic sword.
Immediately her face went red as she realized why she stuck out. She thrust out almost double for the room and services she’d requested into the innkeeps hands.
“Keep the change” She said, looking down at her feet.
Money is the international language, and Emerald had spoken clearly enough to convince the man to give her what she needed without much question.
In short order she was upstairs in her room peeling off her traveling clothes and donning a linen bathrobe. She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands laying on the blade idly. She blade was dirty, bloodied and looked pretty gruesome. Emerald cringed – no wonder people had avoided her.
A familiar knock came to her door to alert her to the prepared bath and Emerald gathered up her rose oils and lotions and followed the girl to her bath.
“Thank you.” Emerald smiled to the woman, who would not meet her gaze, instead she just eyed the bloodied blade that Emerald carried with her.
“W…Will there be anything else mm.. miss?” The woman stuttered as she spoke.
“No, thank you. Please see that I am not disturbed.” Emerald flipped her a gold and the woman was gone instantly as if running for her life.
Emerald sighed to herself as she stared at the steaming bath. Putting a finger in she jumped back – WAY too hot. Dangit – now she’d have to wait. She put some of her lotions on a nearby chair and picked up the bottle of rose oil. Pulling off the cork she poured some of it into the water, watching the water change color and the scent change drastically. Breathing deeply she smiled to herself.
Snatching up a hand cloth, emerald dipped it into the water – still steaming as she pulled it out. She laid the Blade of Cuor on her lap and gently smoothed out the blade with the steaming hot water. She hoped its contents was sleeping.
The hot steaming washcloth smelled of roses as she began cleaning the blade. As she wiped away the grime, dried blood and dirt from the sword it gleamed back at her. She swore she could hear laughing. Grimacing at the internal arguments she was having, she continued to clean. Something about it was calming for her – habit and normalcy in a strange place far from her “home.”
Slowly she moved the cloth over her “companion” the thoughts in her mind twisting more and more. She just hadn’t been right in the head since her spirit faded this last time. But she stroked the blade repeatedly while arguing with herself in her mind – a conversation far too convoluted to both explaining.
Emerald wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting there cleaning her weapon, but now her hands were covered in blood. Looking down at her lap she realized the blade was perfectly clean and she had managed to cut herself in several places on her hands. She was bleeding more then blood – she was bleeding sanity.
“Be no more tired, be no more lame – I cure these light wounds – oh this I proclaim.” She spoke aloud and watched as her wounds healed.
The blade reeked of roses.
Emerald feeling particularly confused approached the tub, finding it had cooled down to a more manageable temperature. Settling into the water with the blade lay quietly on top of the tub Emerald was again plagued by her internal dialogue. Then it all stopped.
“Jean.”
Emerald swished around a bit in the water, sitting up for a moment – steam rising out of the tub with her and the scent of roses filling the room. Emerald had seen that look in his eyes. A look that could only be described as – familiar.
He had looked empty. Jean knew humility, he knew passion and understanding. She had seen it before but after his death… he seemed different. Perhaps colder. It hadn’t hit her until now, likely due to al the confusion about how to present oneself in front of royalty, but now she was thinking back to the look on his face – he was empty. She wondered for a bit if he hadn’t died but instead gone through what she had. No… these healers were surely more competent then Jaiden was.
Emerald sunk back down into the warm waters and blew bubbles in thought.
There was MUCH to think about, the crown wasn’t really her problem although Jean would argue with her about that. Instead she was more worried about being killed in a city where Necromancy was illegal and she had a walking talking and ass whopping undead that rode her like a cheap sleeper.
She splashed the blade in pathetic defiance.
Emerald sat and soaked in the bath for some time, the water had gotten cool and cloudy by the time she decided to get out. Wrapping herself in a towel she looked at the Blade of Cuor and said, “Now isn’t’ that better?”
The she silently scolded herself for speaking aloud to the blade – what if he had answered? How was she going to hide that?! Snatching up some extra linen she wrapped up the blade and grabbed her things, heading back to the room.
Talking to a crazy necromantic blade was PERFECTLY okay in Lochling – It wasn’t exactly the case in the Kings favorite Inn. Slipping quietly into her room, she put on a warm chemise and threw a towel on her horns and hair.
It was then she resolved to get back to Lochling and in a hurry.
Emerald was by NO means wealthy but she was a Bard, she was capable of making money in almost any city with her stories and harmonics talents. Ignoring the nonsense with her travel companions, and mostly keeping to herself Emerald got on the first caravan heading towards Lochling for the festivities being held by the High General. Festivals were huge opportunities for money, and the merchants of the surroundings were not going to miss that chance.
Emerald had begrudgingly been brought along on account of her being both a merchant and an “adventurer.” She had tried to explain to them that she couldn’t use the weapons she had with her, but the group wasn’t buying it – and Emerald needed a lift. She HATED thinking of herself as an adventurer. Adventurers died early and left broken families. She preferred to think of herself as a bard – no matter how bad her singing was.
The caravan trip was mostly uneventful, a few goblins here and there, but nothing the small group couldn’t handle. Em was just glad not to be chased by Black Star Assassins this time. The merchants in the caravan asked a lot of questions, but Emerald preferred not to answer them. She kept the Blade of Cuor wrapped up tight, packed with cottons, fleece, and leather. Her poor decisions had killed people before; she didn’t want more innocent lives on her hands. She kept to herself and when she spoke she told stories to entertain and then would quickly retire to bed, sleeping lightly with her bundle of hell.
It would be some time before the caravan got to the Southern Duchy. Emerald never thought she’d be so glad to see those borders. Those terrible, terrible borders.
Reaching Lochling itself Emerald left the caravan as soon as she could, thanking them politely and then leaving to head to her shop to check on the state of things. It had been at least a month...